The Eva Braun Complex
by Jessie Shockey
Summary: Quatre compares himself to another blonde - Introspective POV.


I wrote this fic months and months ago while I was  
still trying to finish Myrtles and Roses - which ought  
to tell some of you how old this is. ^_^; Because I  
was already involved with such a big project, I put  
this one on the back burner because I was having a  
problem meshing a bit of it with canon. And then I  
promptly forgot all about it.   
  
I lost a lot of data, including some unfinished fics,  
in March or April, and had feared this one lost with  
it. While I was sorting through my floppies looking  
for something else, though, I found a copy complete  
with Kasra's notes on the canon continuity, and  
decided to finish it.   
  
Huuuuge thanks go to Kasra for making this possible -  
and for pointing out my glaringly obvious mistakes.  
I'm holding this up as a weak and belated birthday  
offering to her - and don't worry hon - the actual  
present should be on the way. ^___^   
  
  
  
Disclaimer of responsibility for the concept of this  
fic is at the end. I SWEAR it's not my fault! Also,  
this is a canon-y story and as such contains a whole  
heck of a lot of spoilers. Young, arrogant Quatre  
makes an appearance as well.   
  
  
The Eva Braun Complex   
By Jessie   
  
  
Eva Braun was a woman - a foolish woman, some say -  
made famous entirely by her association with a  
particularly infamous man. She was not a bad person,  
though she was perhaps a bit misguided in her  
affections. By all accounts, she was a kind and loving  
woman, selfless and loyal, willing to give all that  
she had not in support of her lover's cause, but in  
support of /him/ that she loved so dearly.   
  
I cannot speak for Eva. I could not pretend to know  
what could make a beautiful, young woman fall in love  
with a man like Adolph Hitler. Though maybe, just  
perhaps, I can understand the draw. Certainly he was  
charming, able to convince people to follow him  
blindly. It would have been no mean feat for him to  
coax a young innocent into his bed. What intrigues me  
now is why she stayed there - why, despite all the  
evil of which that one man was capable, she lost her  
heart to him so completely.   
  
Perhaps if I could understand her motivations, I might  
make some sense of the tangled mass of emotion that  
fills my heart at the barest mention of his name.   
  
/Treize Khushrenada/.  
  
  
  
  
I think I was seven, when I met him. No...six, because  
he was fifteen that year. The difference in our ages  
seems so pronounced, looking back. In reality, the gap  
between us was much more difficult to measure, even  
then. I was such a precocious child...  
  
But I digress.   
  
His father was visiting mine, the first time that we  
met. The last of the old nobility of Earth come to  
call on the first true technocrats of the colonial  
age. The Winner clan was the first, I knew even then,  
to control so much of the trade in Space without any  
ties to the old economic powers of Earth. We had  
broken away, in the early days, and forged a brave new  
world for ourselves.   
  
Matthaias Khushrenada wanted us back.   
  
And Treize came with him, for whatever reason. Perhaps  
to learn the tricks of world trade from his father.  
What the aging politician could not see was that even  
at the age of fifteen, Treize had an interest in only  
a few things - those which he deemed the most  
beautiful and tragic: Opera, History, Milliardo  
Peacecraft.   
  
War.  
  
His passion for soldiery, indeed, eclipsed all else by  
far. He had joined the Alliance military earlier that  
year.   
  
We slipped away, then, he and I, to the gardens. No  
doubt he felt he was doing both myself and my father a  
great service, keeping me occupied while the adults  
squabbled, out of harm's way. I knew it then, too, but  
I did not mind overmuch. At last there was another boy  
in the house!  
  
We talked of riding for the longest time. Our colony  
was blessed with a small paddock of grass - enough for  
the few fine horses without which my father, Arab that  
he was no matter how far removed from his homeland,   
would have felt himself a pauper. I had been riding  
since I was but a child, I had told him, and he had  
laughed.   
  
"You are still a child," He had said, his eyes  
sparkling with mirth.   
  
I still remember my hot retort, delivered in my  
limited German of the time. "I may be six years old in  
body, but my mind is only a year younger than you."   
  
"That would make your Intelligence Quotient  
two-hundred and thirty," he said, his eyes dancing. I  
could tell that he did not believe me. I nodded,  
though. That was correct. "Very well. But don't you  
think the same rules apply to others? If you were to  
go by /my/ IQ, you would still be much, much younger  
than me."  
  
And perhaps there lay the basis of our friendship.  
Genius is lonely, to a child.   
  
"You should be a soldier," He had said, shortly before  
he was called to leave.   
  
"My father says that war is the ultimate evil," I  
replied.  
  
"I did not ask you what your father thinks of war," He  
said, not unkindly. "What do /you/ think of the idea?"  
  
"I think," I had told him, without pause, "That war is  
the ultimate evil."  
  
Treize had tossed back his head and laughed at that.  
"Do you always agree with everything your father  
says?"  
  
I had looked around the garden then. Even at my tender  
age I knew well that the very walls had ears - Ears  
connected to my father.   
  
"No," I had finally said with a sheepish grin.  
  
"Let me make a wager with you," He had ventured. "I  
hold that, by the time you are my age, you will have  
felt the call of the battlefield, as I have, and  
joined the ranks."  
  
I laughed, brightly. "Whatever would we bet? Surely  
my wants and needs will change in that time. If we do  
not simply forget-"  
  
"You won't forget," Treize said, with a small smile,  
"And neither will I. But as for the prize...let it be  
determined on the finish of the bet."  
  
We shook hands, then, and went our separate ways.   
  
I did not forget.   
  
And neither did he.   
  
  
  
I did not see Treize very much in the intervening  
years. Our paths crossed from time to time at parties,  
political functions, and the like. Treize flourished  
in that time. His meteoric rise through the ranks of  
the Alliance military was almost without precedent.   
  
And I?   
  
It was seven long years from our first meeting before  
I finally stopped agreeing with everything my father  
said. But that matters only in the periphery. The real  
story, the meat of the tale, resumed nine years almost  
to the day from my first encounter with Treize.  
  
It was my sister Anna's wedding. The reception,  
actually. The party had started early that evening,  
and it was then perhaps ten o'clock at night. I'm sure  
that Anna and her new husband would have been glad to  
flee and start their honeymoon, but they were forced  
by protocol to wait until everyone had been given a  
chance to greet them and wish them well. It was a very  
large gathering, full of particularly pompous and  
long-winded individuals. I had escaped the throng that  
filled the house and barricaded myself onto the  
balcony with a glass of punch and a little paper plate  
of hor d'oeuvres.  
  
The night was beautiful, I remember, warm and just a  
little damp - not enough to be uncomfortable, but my  
tuxedo shirt was beginning to stick to my skin in  
places. I had abandoned the jacket long before, and it  
lay beside me, hung over the stone rail. I could hear  
the faint sounds of chatter and idle conversation,  
glass clinking, the occasional, tinny outbursts of  
false laughter.  
  
The door clicked shut behind me, and I turned to see  
Treize Khushrenada approaching the rail. He looked up  
at the fake colonial sky for a long while, just  
standing beside me in silence. I went back to my punch  
and my plate and watched him discretely, observing the  
way he turned his glass of wine between his hands a  
few times before resting it on the rail. I'm sure now  
that he was watching me, too. That was always how he  
had always been...patently observant and subtle,  
always aware of what was going on around him.  
  
"You're fifteen," he said, once some time had passed.  
I had nodded, knowing well his meaning. The time of  
reckoning. I smiled. "I am. Just these past few  
months."  
  
"It seems I have lost the bet, then," He said,  
ruefully. "I should have known you would run away,  
instead. You're too passionate about your peace." He  
smiled at me kindly and bowed his head. "So what is  
your prize?"  
  
It was tempting, of course, to say nothing of the  
truth. I could have chosen a simple reward and have  
been done with it. But Treize was a friend, of sorts.  
Certainly he was more earnest in his manner than the  
fools hob-nobbing inside, and perhaps I felt I owed  
him for that. He was high ranking in the Alliance, but  
I did not doubt that he would keep my secret. He had a  
sense of honor.   
  
"No," I corrected. "You've won."  
  
"But I've been watching the rosters...Unless you've  
enrolled under a false name, or-" He broke off at  
looked at me closely, examining my features. "You've  
joined that silly rebellion," He murmured. It was not  
a question any longer.   
  
"Careful," I chided. "I might take offense."  
  
"Quatre..." He started. I could tell he was going to  
protest, to try and talk me to his cause, and so I  
created the perfect diversion.  
  
"You've won," I repeated, "What is your prize?"   
  
He smiled. "Let me think about it, for a moment. I'd  
something in mind, but seeing you now..." He trailed  
off and looked up at the sky again, squinting into the  
false starlight. After a moment he turned back to me  
with that wonderfully seductive smile and took my  
glass from my hands, sitting it on the railing beside  
his own. "I think," He murmured, placing his  
fingertips on the line of my jaw and leaning close,  
"That a kiss shall suffice."  
  
His lips were soft and cool when they touched mine,  
and slightly damp from the wine he had drunk. I'd been  
kissed before- fleeting touches from both boys and  
girls my own age - adolescent fumblings - but nothing  
like this. The sensations were still new and electric  
to me. His mouth was faintly sweet, tasting of wine  
and candied angelica, remnants of the forgotten party  
on the other side of that thin glass door.   
  
When he pulled back, we both were breathing a bit  
harder, and my eyes were half-closed. I'd enjoyed that  
to no end. Somehow, just being with Treize made me  
feel marvelously bold and wicked. He was, in one  
beautiful, debonair package, everything that my father  
hated. He was warlike and rakish, not to mention a  
man. The perfect rebellion- dangerous and wonderfully  
sensual. And I wanted him. That realization was a  
little startling, but I had learned by then that it  
was best to listen to my heart in matters like these.   
  
"A kiss seems an awfully small prize for a bet that's  
lasted nine years," I murmured, looking up at him with  
my lashes still lowered. "I really insist that you ask  
for something more..."  
  
His eyes had flashed with amusement as he leaned  
closer, trapping me against the railing. "What would  
you suggest?"  
  
"It's really all a matter of what you want," I had  
said, breathily. "Anything in my power."  
  
"Anything?" he'd asked, pressing his lips to mine,  
again.   
  
"Anything..." I'd whispered back.   
  
I still remember the way his body shook as he chuckled  
softly against my lips. "I certainly wasn't thinking  
of this when I proposed the bet."  
  
"I should hope not," I said with mock reproach. He  
threw back his head and laughed, then, his eyes  
sparkling in the artificial moonlight. His lips  
descended on mine again, swiftly, and his hands crept  
up the backs of my thighs. I returned the kiss with  
all the fervor of adolescence, clutching at the lapels  
of his jacket to pull him closer. His thigh had just  
crept between mine when we heard a sound from behind  
us. Treize stepped back and picked up his glass again  
before handing me my punch. I looked up at the door.  
One of the fat madams from the party was standing in  
the doorway, her head turned to catch some comment  
from inside. It did not seem that she had seen us. For  
that I was /quite/ relieved. My father was there.  
  
"Quatre!" She called exuberantly, when she finally  
caught sight of me. "Oh, hurry up, dear, everyone's  
been looking for you! Anna's about to leave!" Her gaze  
swept behind me to where I knew Treize still stood in  
imposed nonchalance, leaning against the rail. "You,  
too, Colonel. Everyone's been missing you!"   
  
She darted forward and patted my head before trying to  
catch my arm. I managed to evade her without seeming  
to intend it - A feat I had perfected during other  
such gatherings - and smiled kindly back at her. "Just  
let me get rid of my plate, madam, and I'll be with  
you in a moment," I said.   
  
She nodded, then, and went back inside. I turned to  
Treize. "Do you have any idea who that was?" I asked,  
bewildered.   
  
He had chuckled. "Not the slightest clue." He tossed  
back the last of his wine and picked up my jacket,  
handing it to me and as he started for the door.   
  
"Where do you think you're going?" I'd asked.   
  
He turned and blinked at me before smiling just a  
little. "I had meant to bid your sister farewell."   
  
"She'll have more than enough 'farewells' to serve  
her, I think," I said as I climbed over the railing.  
The balcony was only about ten feet from the  
ground...not a bad drop at all. "Well? Aren't you  
coming?"   
  
We made love in the garden that night under the cold  
light of the artificial stars.  
  
It was not long after that I was finally sent to the  
Earth. I had made up my mind as a boy of thirteen to  
touch real, living soil, one day. To me, it seemed the  
purest, most wonderful thing in existence.   
  
We - mankind, I mean - struggled for so very long just  
to sustain ourselves in the cold reaches of space.  
Just us. One species. After that, we were able to  
bring a few more with us, like my father's horses and  
the songbirds that filled the dawns of my childhood  
with their beautiful music. Some tagged along - rats  
and vermin, plagues and diseases - the creatures that  
have been the bane of mankind since its inception.   
  
Yet, for all our toiling, all our scientific glory, we  
have been entirely unable to produce something as  
perfect as soil. There are a thousand tiny miracles in  
every handful. The whole massive planet teems with  
them.  
  
Treize took this for granted, I think. Growing up on  
the Earth, he did not spend years of his life  
breathing stale, lifeless air and staring at  
projections of the sun and stars. Our artificial  
gravity, born of centrifugal force, required that each  
torus colony spin so fast that, if we had been looking  
the reality outside our windows, we would have seen  
nothing but trails of light, alternated with bursts so  
bright we would have been blinded. With no sky for a  
shield, the sun could very well have killed us all.   
  
Our very lives hang from a thread, even now. The older  
colonies in L1 and L5 are notorious for their  
instability. Heero has told me of days so hot that  
human skin was scalded by the air. Of nights so cold  
that the snow felt warm. Duo's home was deficient in  
water. Wufei's was literally falling apart. Treize  
grew up in the most perfect of worlds. What I would  
have given, as a child, to have been born in his  
stead? I wanted so badly to visit the Earth.  
  
When my wish was finally granted, I was sent hurtling  
toward that bright blue ball like a meteor - a  
shooting star.   
  
  
  
I would have never thought Treize capable of what he  
did to us all at New Edwards - What he did to the  
world. I understand now what he believed he was  
accomplishing, but at the time - at the time I felt so  
betrayed. Everything that I had believed about him  
seemed to be a lie. Where had his sense of honor gone?  
His honesty?   
  
And it hurt. God, it hurt! All those people screaming  
in my head -  
  
He apologized to me, when I confronted him with it. I  
really don't know, even now, how much he knew of the  
Heart of the Universe. He knew that I was hurting,  
though. And with Duo asleep on the couch in the next  
room, his face on the vid-screen told me that he was  
sorry. Not for his actions, but that they had needed  
to be done. He said that he was sorry he had hurt me.   
  
I wonder if he knew then that he was going to die,  
and how it would rip my soul apart.   
  
I talked to him occasionally through scrambled  
connections, encoded and protected against the prying  
eyes of both his comrades and mine. I didn't see him  
again, face to face, until after -   
  
After Zero. But I'm not here to talk about that.   
  
Heero and I were captured by former members of OZ when  
we returned to Earth. I didn't know yet of the mess  
Treize had gotten himself into- vilified by the  
public, revered by his men... The Treize Faction, they  
had called themselves. Until he explained the  
situation to me, I couldn't understand why they needed  
to put his name in their title- I had thought it  
understood that OZ /was/ a "Treize Faction." They  
would have done anything for him. He was their god.   
  
He never gave me any details - I learned those during  
my stay in the Sanq kingdom. He joked about public  
relations and such, teased that we were both captives.  
I still don't know how he got away from his estate for  
that brief visit. He was only gone for a day, but he  
was certainly missed. It was never mentioned in the  
news. Miss Relena never even knew that he had gone.  
Neither did Miss Noin, which surprised me more.   
  
One would have thought that Zechs might have told her.  
  
"Zero Four, I presume?" His voice was cool and  
amusedly detached when he greeted me, as if we had  
never met before, let alone shared a night of passion.  
  
  
I did not answer.   
  
"And pilot Zero One. Heero Yuy," he said, turning to  
my companion. I remembered feeling a flash of  
irrational jealousy as his eyes lit up. I knew that  
look. Treize was intrigued.   
  
And he was ignoring /me./  
  
Heero's eyes narrowed. I could almost read his mind.  
How did this man - I don't believe he realized it was  
the infamous Treize Khushrenada that he was faced with  
at the time - know his name?   
  
Zechs had told him, of course. Zechs always told him  
everything - Even though they were something like  
enemies by that time.   
  
I felt foolish pride at that. I suppose I still do.   
  
I never told him anything.  
  
Treize had pulled me into his craft, then, under the  
guise of interrogation. The walls of it muffled sound  
so much better than the thin canvas tent would have,  
and it was easier to guard.   
  
I don't think that Heero ever knew. Surely he would  
have said something if he had overheard or smelled it  
on us after. Then again, perhaps he simply chose not  
to comment. I think I like that option better,  
actually - it offers the possibility that he really  
did trust me then - even though I felt I couldn't  
trust myself.   
  
Heero asked me after if I had told him anything. I  
don't know what I would have told him - there was  
never a time when we were more scattered and lost than  
at that moment. But, no, I assured him. I had told him  
nothing.   
  
Even under the delicious torture of his lips and  
tongue, I had told him nothing. Except - except that  
he was wrong...That things didn't have to be the way  
he was so obviously planning...That I was sorry...That  
I loved him.   
  
Treize told me then of his new suit, built from the  
blueprints of mine. And he- he offered it to me.  
Offered it as if it were a gift to be welcomed and not  
the demon that it was - that I assured him it was.  
  
Funny, though - I didn't recognize the Epyon at first  
when I was finally faced with it later in the war. The  
plans he had shown me looked far more like the  
Tallgeese or Wing.   
  
I have to wonder if he demonized it for me.  
  
  
  
  
Treize wanted very much for his death to /mean/  
something, even at fifteen. He told me then that he  
wanted to be a martyr, or even a villain, as long as  
his was a death that would really /matter/ to the  
world.   
  
I suppose he got his wish.   
  
I have prayed for little in my life. I went through  
the motions as a child whenever I was directed, and I  
learned to appear sincere. My father was a very  
religious man. Perhaps that is why I am not.   
  
I will admit, though, that I prayed for him. I lifted  
up my voice to the God of my Father in supplication,  
begging that the war would end too soon - that his  
plan would fail - that his sacrifice would prove  
unnecessary.   
  
He would have done it for Wufei, I realize now. We  
never spoke of him, but Wufei told me later that they  
had fought...That Treize had killed his wife...That he  
had sworn that he would have vengeance or he would  
have death. If his life could have meant nothing else,  
Treize would have died then to give him peace.   
  
I cried when the fighting broke out again. It was a  
blight on Treize's memory that he peace his life had  
paid for was not everlasting. I cried even harder when  
I realized that Wufei had not found his peace with  
Treize's death. I prayed then that we would end the  
fighting for good, and that Wufei's heart would heal -  
That Treize's sacrifice had meant something.   
  
It's what he would have wanted. And an eternity of  
peace is certainly more reasonable a desire than what  
I really wanted just then.   
  
No amount of prayer would ever bring him back.   
  
I was a fool to have trusted him to stay alive for my  
sake. He has so many grander plans. Eva was a fool as  
well. Maybe that, ultimately, is what we have in  
common. During those final days, we both knew what was  
coming. We knew them well enough to predict their  
final actions.   
  
There's so much we had in common, Eva and I, but in  
some very sad ways our lives were very different. She  
was one of many lovers... though she was always  
Adolph's favorite. I know all too well that Treize had  
other lovers... I was not the first and I was not the  
last. I was not his favorite, and I was not the most  
important to his plan. Not really, anyway.   
  
She was so much younger than him... All of them were  
so much younger than him. /We/ were all so much  
younger than /Treize/... Nine years is such a long  
time, when you think about it. By the time Duo was  
nine years old, he had lost two families.   
  
I suppose that Zechs and Une weren't really that much  
younger than him. Only a few short years. But me...   
  
He asked me once if I thought he was a pedophile. I  
asked if he thought I was a child. We laughed until we  
cried.  
  
Did you know that every lover Adolph Hitler ever took  
went mad or killed herself? One shot herself with his  
pistol when he locked her in their quarters. One leapt  
from a window. Eva herself took cyanide. I look at the  
fractured Milliardo Peacecraft and poor, confused Lady  
Une, and I think ... those aren't very good odds, are  
they?  
  
And as they slowly recover from his influence...where  
does that leave me?   
  
Eva died with her lover. I wonder, sometimes, which of  
us was the greater fool.   
  
END.  
  
  
  
  
Caer doesn't like 13x4. Caer doesn't like 13x4 because  
she doesn't particularly like Treize. She doesn't like  
Treize, she told me, because he's "a charming version  
of Hitler, with funny eyebrows." Therefore, I blame  
this entire thing on her, because when she said that  
(ages ago, really) all I could think was-   
  
Eva was blond, wasn't she? *grins evily*  
  
Alright, history lesson for those of you who don't  
know... Eva Braun was Adolph Hitler's right hand lady.  
She was one of quite a few younger women with whom he  
had relationships - one of them was his own niece.  
*shudders* That's just wrong. Ick. As if he wasn't  
icky enough to begin with.   
  
Eva died with Hitler in the last days of the war. They  
took cyanide together, and he shot himself as well. He  
wanted to be good and dead, just in case the Allies or  
the people of Germany got a hold of his body. He saw  
what happened to Mussolini. ^_^; Apparently, he wasn't  
all that worried about what might happen to Eva's  
body...  
  
I stole the title, because it was so damned perfect.  
It comes from a Titans comic of all things... Roy  
Harper's ex is a supervillainess, and he compares  
himself (fleetingly) to Eva Braun. 


End file.
